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He joined Slug and the boys in the poolroom.

“We was just gettin’ some Jamaica ginger,” Slug said.

“Count me out.”

“Say, after that night las’ week, I thought you was still the same old Studs,” Slug said.

“Yeah, listen, that goddamn paregoric made me sick and jumpy for three days.”

“You just got to get used to it.”

“Say, Studs, I’ll bet some flossie’s got you,” kidded Tommy Doyle.

“No, I just got to work tomorrow.”

“I admire Studs. He’s got more will power than I got,” Les said.

“You singin’ the blues again?” asked Slug.

“Well, he has. Jesus, there’s nothin’ in drinkin’ all the time,” Les said.

“Les, hire a hall,” Shrimp Haggerty said wearily.

“We’ll have to be shippin’ you over to that Bug Club in Washington Park,” Slug said.

Studs was tempted to get drunk, but finally determined that he wouldn’t succumb to temptation again. Not after that paregoric hangover he’d had.

“Come on, let’s take in a movie,” he suggested.

“Hell, I saw three this week. Come on, we’ll get Jamaica ginger and we’ll be a movie,” said Slug.

“You’ll have to count me out, boys,” said Studs.

“Desertin’ us?” said Doyle.

“I don’t feel like it tonight.”

They gave Studs up an’ left.

He kind of wished that he’d gone along. Stan Simonsky came in, and they played rotation pool. Studs won. He and Stan went to a movie. He was determined he’d call up Lucy, too, tomorrow, and take her.

He went home around twelve, feeling confident.

He was going to show the boys something! He counted the days until the dance.

“Hello, Bill.”

“Hello, Dad.”

“Say, I hear you’re going to your sister’s dance. I’ll bet you cut a swath there. Now when I was your age, I never missed any of the big shindigs. That’s why your mother fell for me. I was a dandy, even if I do admit it.”

“Maybe I won’t go. I thought I’d buy the ticket to help her along.”

“You don’t want to be a stick-in-the-mud. And there you might meet some fellows who can be valuable to you. You know, meeting the right kind of friends, useful ones, is what counts in this world. And the fellows who will be there, now they’re the kind that will count later on. They’ll be having their homes, their businesses, their buildings. You’ll know them and when they’ll want a decorating job, right away they’ll think, I’ll let Bill Lonigan do this for me.”

Studs picked up a newspaper and casually glanced at it without knowing what he read.

“I hope you’ll he taking that Lucy Scanlan girl. I remember her. She was a fine girl, a fine decent girl, just like your own sisters.”

Studs left the room. The old man looked hurt.

II

Studs had a feeling of uncertainty as he got off the elevated, and walked towards Louisa Nolan’s, a dancing school over a store near Sixty-third Street. He resigned himself. Only twenty days to the dance, and if he did a little dancing before then, he’d make a better impression on Lucy and everybody. And the punks always seemed to get something here; he could too, and broads were always broads. He spied a group of fellows before the place, and as he passed them to go through the wide-doored entry, he felt that they were giving him the once-over. He started up the broad stairs with slow casualness. The way the gang of guys had looked at him, made him wonder would he get into a fight. It was a windy March Sunday, and the gang would be around the poolroom, because they had nothing else to do. If he got in a real jam, a punk would call them up and it wouldn’t take long for them to get here. And Studs Lonigan could take care of himself. Only whenever a guy went to a place where he wasn’t known, he had to be ready for anything.

He paid fifty cents and entered, handing his ticket to a bald-headed, narrow-faced man who looked as if he belonged ushering in a Protestant Church. A mixed, talkative crowd was spread over the shabbily-carpeted lounge. Studs was ill at ease because so many of them were strangers to him who were known here, while he wasn’t. Strangers coming into the Greek’s poolroom